


Grief Lessons

by floralshoppe



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Heavy Angst, I Don't Even Know, Latin, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, have you ever sat there while reading beowulf and been like, man i wish this was a gay borderline werewolf fanfic in a 1400s setting, vague historical inaccuracies, well here ya go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 21:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12779799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralshoppe/pseuds/floralshoppe
Summary: Months ago, soon to be Earl of Jung vanished without a trace. The very next night, the murders start. Two fortnights ago, Prince Himchan Kim was sent to find and conquer the source of these murders as means of redemption.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not even sure what made me write this..i just suddenly felt the urge to write a historical fic and decided to base it off of the first thing my brain could come with and...voila i guess
> 
> this was also supposed to be a oneshot at first so i'm sorry if this first chapter seems so rushed or jammed together it definitely wasn't on purpose
> 
> as always, sorry for any grammatical incorrectness, spelling errors, etc.  
> all references and translations will be posted in the end notes

_The overwhelming smell of blood burned at Jung’s nose. He’d smelled the offensive stench countless times before, while hunting or maybe during a particularly trying practice. Now, however, it seemed to come from every turn and orifice of the Earth until he was drowned in it. He wiped his eyes hurriedly, no doubt smearing more of the substance across his cheeks. As if by default, there beneath his shaking figure was ground bones, a sign that the Beast had once again taken control. A sharp whine left his throat as he pushed himself away, paying little attention to the way the grass burned through his torn cloak, barely more than a piece of cloth by now. He’d have to leave, and fast. There were rumors of him across the entire country by nowーthat, he was sure of, as he remembered hearing an ugly cry once of how ‘the Beast of southern Jung has finally made it’s way up to this blessed land!’ before he’d fully lost consciousness. Though he knew he’d been succumbed to but a nighttime horror story for children and adults alike, he still feared the day one might capture him and he’d finally atone for his sins, being hung in the broad daylight before a feast, where probably the entire country of Bang would celebrate._

_Jung shivered, pulling himself to his feet and tugging his cloak tighter around his waist._

No _. he thought sternly._ The only hand I shall die by is my own.

_He took off northwards, refusing to look down at the remnants of the dead at his feet._

 

* * *

 

If Prince Kim could describe himself in one word, he’d choose ‘self-assured.’

When he was younger, though, it stemmed out of his own merriment. He loved more than anything to watch his fellow pupils glare at him as he confidently played a hymn on dulcimer, then later recited a poem word for word in perfect Latin. He wore his prince title proudly and flaunted it like an imaginary fur cloak. To no one’s surprise but his own, this was the lead to his downfall.

“Free thinking!” his father had cried angrily. “All of that literature you read had tainted your mind.” Prince Kim could only watch him with annoyance, chiding his grammatical incorrectness mentally. “These so-called philosophical menー” and there he practically spat, “they encourage nothing but sin. Sodomy is a _sin_ , Himchan.”

He wanted to point out that he’d never engaged in sodomy(yet), had only kissed and handfuls of gropes at most, but he figured that wouldn't help his case in any way.

“Fatherー” the Prince started, ready to end the discussion already.

The king, unfortunately, wasn’t having any of it. He shook his head as if he was shaking the sin off of his holy shoulders. “This is inexcusable. _Pater noster, qui es en cælis,_ help this boy!” Himchan watched as the man paced the floor anxiously. He was meant to be meeting with the younger son Jongup of Moon, not being lectured by someone who knew less than he did. “Leave now. If I discuss this any longer my chest might combust. We’ll think of reconciliations later. Leave, leave...”

And the prince would be lying if he said he didn’t have to forcibly slow his pace to hide his relief. He was already working on forcing the conversation from his mind by the time he’d called a stable boy to get a horse ready for him.

Maybe if he weren’t so self-assured, he would have thought harder into the consequences that came with the term ‘reconciliation.’ Maybe then he’d have been prepared for what was now being thrown at him, if he’d just taken a moment to consider the crazed look in his father’s eyes and take control of the argument before it’d gotten so out of hand. He could be out riding horses with the Moon boy and maybe they’d even go into town and watch a play, where he’d kiss the younger behind the ear and he’d undoubtedly blush, and then…

But no, he was here instead.

(“He’s like this cabbage.” He remembers once hearing a cook say about him. “How so?” “All head and no ass.”)

He forced himself to gulp, dry mouth bringing down nothing but heady fear as he felt the horse shift under him. He stared at his mother’s face pleadingly, watching the anguished yet determined tears fall from her face before her gaze was quickly averted.

Now his hands had truly begun to sweat. “Foolish,” he muttered under his breath, wiping his hands on his breeches. “This is all terribly foolish.” If he squinted hard enough he could see her lips moving quickly, _Oremus: Deus, cujus Unigénitus, per vitam, mortem et resurrectiónem_ , the rosary beads twisting steadily in her shaking hands.

 _Erratum humanum est!_ he wanted to scream. _Hic non est._

When he realized she would never look up, not at least until he was long gone and into the woods, he scoffed bitterly. This was his new harsh reality.

He’d heard of the beast of Jung plenty of times, each story teeming with more and more gruesome information. He’d known it’d been working its way up, only days from reaching the point where Jung and Kim’s north and southern borders met. Just a night ago he was so certain that the soldiers would take on the problem while he listened to the reports from the safety of the castle.

_All head! No ass!_

He could envision the words prancing around his miserable body.

How was he expected to slay the beast that had slain entire villages overnight? The sun was in zenith and a gross sweat was trickling down his spine. Prince Kim knew he wasn’t weak or unhealthy, and could easily take on the best of them, but what would that be like in comparison to a mindless, bloodthirsty beast? They might as well begin to make arrangements for his death. There was an empty spot in the garden right between the lavender and his great-grandfather that he always had an eye on…

He chewed on his bottom lip, kicking the horse under him with perhaps too much force. This one wasn’t even his usual, Junhong, a blonde beauty who never did more than trot along. He was instead assigned to one of the war horses Taesong, who Himchan knew from experience had no problem helping himself to other people’s food. _Greedy bastard._

He watched solemnly as the woods passed by him in a daze. It would most likely take him a week to reach the border with his limited resources, and by then the beast would most likely have made its way into Kim.

Still, he tread onwards, fingers twitching out the notes to a hymn almost subconsciously. When this phantom twitch of the fingers was all he had left to remember, he wanted it deeply embedded in his mind.

 

* * *

 

 

_Sometimes Jung would try to run against the sun. It was foolish and impossible, but those first few nights he really, really tried. He ran, feeling the soles of his shoes wear down until the rocks stabbed back at him. Even in the most desolate of caves where night and day and dawn and dusk blended into one togetherness of ‘black’ーeven there time found him._

_It always started with the burning sensation in his throat. He assumed that was It’s way of expressing hunger. What began as a bothersome tickle would grow into a searing pain, as if all of Hell’s fire lived in his chest and was only sleeping under his ribs. Next came the blurred vision, his body sweating from an unknown exertion until he’d given in mentally or physically and just_ lay wherever he’d fallen _, whichever came first. His knowledge of the transformation became weak here, but he could always hear the sharp snaps of bones forming out of nothing like mice in a pantry. He was far too gone to feel anything at this point, luckily, but the echoes of the cracks tended to ring through his ears for hours after he woke._

_The last thing he felt in his conscious mind was his newly transformed self, whatever that was, standing on its hinds and letting out a petrifying roar. All that followed for hours afterwards was pure darkness._

 

* * *

 

 

If for some God-forsaken reason Himchan made it out of this situation alive, he never wanted to see another damned apple ever again. After four days passed his meals had been chiseled to nuts and apples. His sword clanked useless against his thighー _as if he would engage in a swordfight with a deer like some drunken fool_ ーand his dagger stayed tucked in its holster between his shoulder blades. There was a difference between shooting down a buck during hunting games and stabbing at one up close as means of survival.

Prince Kim knew he’d have to eventually if he wanted to have any sort of chances of living. Being the strongest warrior in the province only meant so much for so long. The prince sat boredly under a tree, forcing himself to chew his way through the last bits of the apple he was eating. His mind suddenly went back to years ago at his sister’s ball, weeks before she wed and left for France.

There were beautiful men from Bang and France alike, of all different forms and sizes, dancing with silly smirks and ruddied cheeks. 

He never considered himself much of a fan of the French, but he still knew how to appreciate a nice jawline when he saw one. One of the younger boys of Yoo was talking animatedly about something or another, every so often stopping to laugh and beat one of the men on the back. Himchan had laughed aloud, seeing the astonished look on the others’ faces. The men of Yoo tended to be like that; whatever they lacked in size, they made up for in personality.

Having pity on the poor Frenchman, Himchan decided to change the subject to something that would warrant a less violent reaction.

“So, Monsieur…”

“Stephane de Bourbon.”

“Monsieur de Bourbon! Where is you fiancée?” The prince pretended to look around, though they both knew it was only for show.

The grin the man gave the group was as predatory as it was secretive and giddy. Himchan remembered thinking he looked like a child who was hiding something. “Fiancée...” The man took a heavy sip of his wine, eyes glimmering as they made contact with another one of the French generals across the room. “I am a _veuve_. I was very serious back then, et je ne suis pas née pour devenir squelette!"

And he seemed so proud of his sudden admission that he laughed to himself, take another swipe of his drink. The younger Yoo boy only smiled confusedly. “Je ne suis...speak French.” This brought the entire group to laughter, and conversation quickly continued.

Himchan had later brought up the subject again when the man was alone.

“What did you mean earlier?” He tried to recall the words to himself. “You said something about being a skeleton?”

The man smiled, if but a tinge forced as he looked around the hall. “Can you keep a secret?” Himchan frowned, but nodded seriously anyway. “I do not like girls. They’ve never interested me.”

To say he was surprised was an understatement. A shocked sputter left his lips. “M-Me. I am as well.” He ducked his head. “Not interested in girls I mean.”

De Bourbon only patted his back in a sort of solidarity. “A comrade, then. I tell you this because you are young now: Love must be reinvented, _on le sait_.”

Himchan held that conversation close to his chest now more than ever. Somewhere along the line he had taken it upon himself to make sure that that statement became true, that it would no longer be just a statement shared between him and a phantom of a stranger.

As if somehow sensing Himchan was getting too relaxed, his daydream was brought to an end by Taesong’s loud whinny. He stood warily on his feet, debating whether or not it was necessary to unsheathe his sword. He walked in the direction the soft grunts were coming from, getting louder and louder until he was met with a small clearing. The area around him seemed forcefully flattened somehow, though he couldn’t even begin to think of a tool that could raze this much land. In the very middle was a little shelter that looked like it was put together by a child, and even further in it was a man.

Covered in blood.

He watched as Taesong nodded his head at him, as if expecting him to somehow know what to do in this situation. _What a horribly wrong assumption._

Nevertheless, he held his head as high as his neck would take him, pulling out his word and walking directly to the stranger, pressing it flesh against his neck and watching the man jerk in shock.

The first thing the prince’s eyes focused on after the initial shock of _dirt_ and _blood_ and _sweat_ was _lips_.

It felt almost perverse. He saw a man covered in so much grime and torn clothing, with nothing but pure fear in his eyes, and yet the first thing to mind was, ‘I wonder what his lips would feel like pressed against mine?’ That was reinventing love for sure, but definitely not in the way it was supposed to be.

“Who are you and what are you doing here? Are you aware that you are on Kim territory?”

Emotions fluttered on and off the man’s face as if he couldn’t decide which one to choose. Himchan decided to pick for him, pressing the sword more firmly against his neck.

“Lee!” the man finally griped out. “Lee Daehyun. I was on my way to visit a friend and Iー” he paused, eyes rolling to back of his head with nerves. “I was attacked by the beast of Jung. I barely made it out alive as you can see. I had to make shelter wherever I could.” Lee’s arms were shaking by then, appearing moments away from giving out.

“You saw the beast?” Himchan quickly put away his swords, pulling the man from his weak excuse of a shed. “It wasn’t supposed to have been here for at least another two days! What direction did it go? Did you see it?” Lee tugged gently at his arm, trying to release himself from the grip with no luck.

“I-no, not really. I wasn’t focused on much else other than surviving.” He tried to smile, but it got lost somewhere between all the... _everything_ caked on his face.

The prince frowned in disdain, lifting the manーor Lee, nowーfrom the ground. “You need to bathe. Desperately.”

 

* * *

 

 

Daehyun watched the dried blood flow down the river in stained red clumps. In some morbid way it reminded him of the water-colored paintings hung among the staircases of the Jung palace. _Lee Daehyun_ , he scoffed to himself, scrubbing vigorously at his face. He was offended by his own lie, half ready to give up the whole story just to regain what last bit of honor he had. He already lost his body, to have to lose his name as well was just another kick in the head.

On the other side of the river, Prince Kim floated quietly on his back, basking in the sun. If it weren’t for the tight set of his lips he’d almost look peaceful. The bow of his lips had collected a soft sheen of sweat that reflected the sunshine like a living illusion to beauty. His skin was unblemished and his coal black hair formed a sort of halo around his head. The look was an extreme contrast from the man who was glaring down his sword at him just earlier that morning.

“Do you know how to catch fish?” the prince asked suddenly, not opening his eyes once.

Daehyun fell out of his stupor, scrubbing invisible dirt off his chest. “Y-yes. Of course.”

“Catch us some then.” he ordered, sitting up and looking just as menacing as head before, even with the water cascading down around him. “I’ll get wood for a fire.”

Daehyun was so caught up in not letting himself look at the other’s backside that it wasn’t until Himchan was fully dressed and knotting his cloak that he remembered that he didn’t actually have any tool to fish with.

“You wouldn’t happen to have another sword, would you?” Himchan looked at him incredulously, before reaching beneath his coat and sliding the dagger from its sheath and tossing it on the grass.

“We’ll have a quick meal and then you’ll help me hunt down this beast, understood?” Before he could gauge the other’s response, he turned and stalked into the woods.

He stood quickly from the water, shivering as he dressed himselfーand really, the prince couldn’t at least offer him a spare shirt of pair of breeches he was sure to have? The smell seemed much more poignant now that he’d been freed from it for a short amount of time, and in the end he decided he would try to somehow _scrub_ the smell out as he fished.

He grabbed the dagger from the ground, fingers tracing the over the hilt in astonishment. His own dagger had been fairly nice, with a jade hilt and a simple ‘ _J_ ’ carved on the side. The jade on Himchan’s hilt was encrusted with rubies, and then those rubies were trimmed in gold. On one side of the blade was the initials ‘ _K.H.C_ ’ in perfect cursive, and on the other side the words ‘ _kim ad infinitum_.’ His was practically a fancy stick of metal in comparison, but he wouldn’t dare imagine just tossing it on the ground like rubbish.

“So this is what it’s like to be a prince.” he thought aloud, sighing as he made his way back to the river bank.

 

* * *

 

 

Himchan would be lying if he said he wasn't terrified. The beast had made it’s way into Kim days earlier than expected, and could be anywhere right now. His only guide was a random illiterate boy from God knows where. He didn’t have anything to offer. Collecting wood wasn’t nearly as good at taking his mind off of things as it was a day or two ago. Boredom dragged him down hard and fast. In the castle he had people to pester and books to read and every other art to conquer, and here there was nothing but open air. It wasn’t as if he didn’t appreciate the forests, but they definitely did not fit anywhere into his lifestyle. By the time his arms were full the sun was high and angry, and sweat dripped into his eyes in an agonizingly slow pace.

 

* * *

 

 

At their makeshift recuperating spot, Daehyun was focused hard on gutting a fish, three others laid carefully to the left of him, white meat devoid of any scales. To his right, Taesong sat deep in a sleep, a pile of apples by his side.

The prince dropped the firewood unceremoniously, obviously impressed when he asked, “How did you get him to lay down like that?”

Daehyun squinted up, something awfully smug turning at his lips. “I just fed him til he was too full to do much else. I hope you don’t mind?” He turned his face downwards, looking up from under his eyelashes. Something in his expression made the prince’s jaw tick. He briefly thought of how differently Prince Moon would have said the same sentence and somehow make it sound dry and satirical.

“Whatever…” he muttered weakly, stripping himself of his cloak and sword belt. The urge to span out on the ground and convalesce from all of his growing frustrations. He felt like a little boy, his mind spinning with images of Jongup’s smooth tan skin under his fingers and his carefully emotionless face. He never realized how much they spent together pestering at each other until now. Daehyun was an exact opposite of Jongup, though. His cheeks were rounded and his lips full and red. All of his features seemed too large for his rather small face, but at the same time he couldn’t imagine them any other way.

_All of this from an ignorant little taunt._

He swallowed against the lump in his throat, attempting to force the feeling in his stomach down. Instead, he focused on starting a small fire, eyes occasionally drifting upwards to watch Daehyun slice the fish into quarters and rinse them off in the river.

“We only needed one or two fish. The rest of those will go bad with no one to eat them.” He chided just to fill the silence.

“There’s two fish for each of us. I thought it’d be smarter to cook for now and later so that you wouldn’t waste any firewood. Obviously I was wrong though…”

Himchan scoffed, striking at the wood hard enough for a shy spark to ignite. “Where are you going to store this extra food where it won’t get spoiled or ants won’t appear?”

“Where are you planning on going that will require us to store it. Wouldn’t it be much smarter to just stay here? We have no hint towards the whereabouts of where the beast is, so roaming around mindlessly is just tiring and futile.”

By then the fire was starting to smoke and spread properly, reflecting the glare on Himchan’s face like a mirror.

“Are you suggesting we just sit here until nightfall then?”

Daehyun shrugged noncommittally, putting groups of fish quarters on sticks that Himchan was quick to snatch from his hands and lay carefully over the fire. “This would’ve been better if there was a loaf of bread to go along with it. Perhaps some mead as well? I haven’t had a drink in _monthsー_ ”

“Why do you never stop talking? Is that the trait of the Lee’s? Insufferable and neverending commentary?”

Daehyun’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits, his face turning hard and bitter. “Has no one ever taught you about holding your tongue?”

“Does it matter? We’ll be dead in days anyway. That beast doesn’t spare anyone from what I’ve heard.”

“I wish it’d stumble upon something reflective and murder itself.” Daehyun scoffed, pushing a rock around with his toe. (Himchan tried his hardest not to cringe his face up in disgust.) “No matter, who would want to spend their last days brooding and glaring at everything?”

They both sat in silence for a while after that, Daehyun still pushing his rock around and Himchan occasionally rotating the fish.

“I think it’s done.” the prince said, though it sounded more like a question than anything. “Lee, what do you think?” He turned to the other, feeling surprised to see him dozed off and tucked into himself, lips stuck in a pout. The peaceful boy was nothing like the back-talking ass from earlier. “It’s amazing how much more beautiful someone can be when they’re not speaking.” he thought aloud, removing the meal from the fire. Maybe that’s why he liked Jongup so much. He spoke, but not to the point where it felt like he might pass out if he uttered another word. That strong, hot feeling grew in his stomach again.

Kim groaned, head falling back in despair as he remembered Jongup’s soft lips against his neck, dragging them to behind his ear and sucking softly. His lips felt lonely, and his body felt lonelier. He was on a journey to his _death_ and he was going to spend the last days crying to be touched like he had just rediscovered his sexuality all over again.

Bitter and desperate to project his feelings, he grabbed a stick from the ground, stretching so that he could poke Lee in the shoulder. It took a while, but eventually the other stirred, blinking the blurriness out of his eyes as slow recognition seeped in. The man slowly unfurled himself, stretching and moaning under his breath with every satisfying pop. When he looked up again, the prince was staring at him with an unreasonably pained look on his face.

  
Bitter and desperate to project his feelings, he grabbed a stick from the ground, stretching so that he could poke Lee in the shoulder. It took a while, but eventually the other stirred, blinking the blurriness out of his eyes as slow recognition seeped in. The man slowly unfurled himself, stretching and moaning under his breath with every satisfying pop. When he looked up again, the prince was staring at him with an unreasonably pained look on his face.   
  
"What are you going to go on about this time? Have I been sleeping too loud for Your Highness?"   
  
Himchan glowered, snatching up a stick with far too much aggression. "Be quiet. If it had not been for our predicament, you'd be hanged for all the back talk you've been throwing."

"I'm sure you'd be at the very front with a lady at your side."

When Daehyun looked up after having not heard a response, he was surprised to find the prince's eyes pointedly averted elsewhere. "Hold on, now. Are you telling me the ever boastful Prince Kim does not have a lady?"

"I have a man."

The hairs on Daehyun's neck stood fast for a second he thought would black out and start transforming right then and there. He picked up a stick of his own, not letting his gaze fall on the man in front of him.

"If you had a man," Daehyun started, tenderly pulling a piece of fish off the stick. The smell instantly made bile rise in his throat. "If you had a man, it'd be the both of us hanging in the middle of town."

"Thisー" Himchan gestured around him. "and the beast. That is my family's version of hanging me in the middle of town. I'm surprised they didn't just sever my head."

Daehyun poked the other with his stick, desperate to lighten the mood. "Well. You, me, and the devil makes three, right?"

The prince snapped out of his daze, swatting the stick so that it fell and covered the food in grass. "We're not comrades. You're barely a servant. It's the devil and I, and then you far in the background."

"You'd rather die with the devil than me?"

"I'd rather kiss a hundred ladies than die with you." Himchan felt his face frown at his own comment, and Daehyun scoffed.

"You can't even insinuate kissing a woman. And you wasted our food." He might've felt sick at just the thought of eating meat these days, but he definitely wasn't one to let food go to waste. When the Jung palace would gather for feasts, he was always happy to eat whatever was handed to him. Seeing the fish he'd spent a bit of effort on now covered in dirt annoyed him.

"Wash it off in the river if you're so desperate." The prince said seriously. "That's something a commoner would do, no?"

Daehyun's retort got stuck in his throat. He looked up and around him, awareness slowly sinking in. It had to have been at least five by now. He could already feel his throat start to itch. The sun would start going down any moment.

Daehyun was beginning to transform, and he had not a single idea on how to get away from the man in front of him before he went on a pillage.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i edited this in about an hour so sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors  
> all references/translations/definitions posted in the end notes

_ “Domine Iesu, dimitte nobis debita nostra, salva nos ab igne inferiori, perduc in caelum omnes animas, praesertim eas, quae misericordiae tuae maxime indigent.” The words burned painfully at his throat, echoing through the silent woods. His hands trembled violently against his chest as the heat swelled in his chest and reduced his breath to short puffs.  He could recall his teacher pointing to the prayer, all those years ago. His hair had barely licked his ears and he was but a collection of gangly limbs. “My Jesusー!” she’d cry, her voice going unreasonably shrill. “Forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of Hell: lead all souls to Heaven especially those who are most in need of your mercy!” When he was younger, still growing into himself, he scoffed. _

_ "What kind of man is pitiful enough to beg like that?” _

_ He collapsed on the forest floor, lips mouthing out dead pleas. _

 

* * *

 

 

Daehyun never picked up on the fact that he was a horrible liar until he was forced to do it on spot. After months of silence and mindless inside banter, his mind felt dried out and blank. His face felt flushed red now, even his chest dusted soft pink. For a split second, he was reminded of walking to his quarters after a night of drinking. He could hear his own drunken laughter, while one of the older maids shook their head. Then he’d kick off his shoes and fall into bed with a grunt, and sleep like a rock til morning.

He pushed the memory down hard and fast; thinking about the past only ever brought on borderline hysteria. With more effort than he cared to admit, he eventually gained the courage to try out his lie.

“Prince Kim?”

As per usual, he was met with an uninterested hum. Nonchalance rolled off him in ways that made Daehyun’s lips curl in jealousy. He had to take a deep breath before trying again.

“I need your horse.” he stated. He watched as the prince sat up, an eyebrow raising in genuine bewilderment. Some part of him realized that he could’ve gone about asking that in a much more sensible manner, but the way his throat was squeezing left him anxious and desperate.

“Why in the hell would I just give you my horse? If you’re a thief, you’re doing damn pitiful at your job.”

“I don’t want to steal your bloody horse.” Daehyun grumbled, trying his best not to clench his fists in disgust.  _ Is that what I look like these days? A lame thief? _ “I do not need to steal your horse. There’s a cavern just an hour west. I figured you’d want to hide your only means of transport. I know for a fact the beast has already passed it, and it has yet to have circled around. It’s more likely to come this way, if anything.”

“So you suggest that I stay here in the direct line of that monstrosity while you go and prance off with my horse?” Daehyun watched with a carefully blank expression as the prince stood, gathering his belongings and startling the horse onto its feet with a harsh slap to its behind. “If you’re so sure that the beast will come this way,  _ Sir Lee _ ,” and the mocking tone was biting and bitter as it startled the previously calm airー“why don’t you stay here instead while I take the horse, and we’ll see who truly survives the night?”

The earl watched silently as the prince mounted the horse and took off westward, only allowing his shoulders to fall when the angry  _ clop, clop, clop _ sounds faded long into the distance. If there was one thing that came with being an earl, it was having strong social skills. Being able to guide people into cooperation without their immediate knowledge was his strong point, and he had no problem using that power for his own needs. 

At this point, the pain in his neck was getting unbearable, his eyesight already getting worse. Rather than fear, he only felt agitation. Already he missed the joys of having someone to make conversation with. The low whispers of the forest felt new all over, and his jaw ticked with frustration as his vision truly muddled into nothing but mosaic greens and oranges and navys. He fumbled to find the nearest tree, gripping the bark til it dug underneath the beds of his fingernails. With as much gracefulness as a blind man could have, he slid his way down the tree, fingers protesting the whole time.

He didn’t know how long he sat like that, drifting in and out of awareness, but he knew he wasn’t fully gone when he felt himself groan at the sharp iciness of rainfall. Tears threatened to slip down his face as he detached his fingers from the tree bark, barely registering the pain the splinters sent down his spine. Most of the pain was barely noticeable at this point, but knowing that he’d be waking up to blueish purple skin and dried blood filled him with more dread than usual. The normalcy had caught him so off guard he wasn’t even aware how hard he’d been hoping that it’d somehow just make the transformation stop.

“Idiot.” he muttered. Pulling together the last bits of strength he had, he grit his teeth before slamming his head into the tree, thankful as he felt himself quickly lose consciousness.

 

* * *

 

_ “Idiot.” Himchan muttered. The cave was cold and dank, but he had a feeling it was much better than being out in the rain. Just some time ago he had heard that enraged, inhuman snarl closer than he ever had before. He hadn’t felt that kind of heart gripping fear sinceーsince  _ that  _ day, and the thought made the prince want to cry and laugh all at once. How sad, that the scariest moment in his life before just nearing a week ago was getting caught sneaking into a play. He wanted to yell and throw his head back, throw a fit, throw  _ something _ , but he was too scared to even breathe too hard lest the beast somehow manifest itself before his very eyes. In any other situation, maybe he could grow from this, and find himself renewed as a more humble and refined man, someone really ready and suit to be a king. This redemption was meaningless. There would be no walking away a better man. His fate had been decided, and no amount of bargaining or bouts of anger would change it. _

_He swiped the hot tears off his cheeks over and over until they ran too fast for him to catch._

 

* * *

 

 

Daehyun woke up to the sound of his own harsh breathing. Opening his eyes was a terrifying ordeal, seeing as they were practically crusted shut with dried rain. The rain had lightened to just a drizzle now, but it still left him shaking in theー he blinked up, looking nervously around him ーearly morning sun. His head ached significantly, whether from being out in the cold or the blunt trauma or something _It_ had did, he wasn’t sure. A part of him wanted to get up and find out where he was and run to find the prince or maybe a village, maybe beg for food and clothes and mercy. A bigger part of him, not nearly as reasonable, could barely pull his head off the ground.

With what little endurance he had left, he pushed himself off the grounds(knees first, palms flat on the ground and irritating red peeling skin, and again he couldn’t tell if it was self-injury or something else entirely). His britches were barely more than scraps of dirty rags at this point, and the way they clung to his skin and dripped down his thighs felt worse than just being naked. Without thinking, he undressed himself and wrung the clothes out like a towel, face scrunching together as blood and water alike splashed underneath his feet. At least there was no bones and half-chewed meat surrounding him. Those days were the worst, as it wasn’t unusual that he’d end up spending most of his morning upheaving dry air.

The earl just wished he’d find somewhere he could lay down, and fast.

He attempted to retrace his steps through the woods to the best of his ability, relying solely on the position of the sun. The thinner trees made the area feel far more open than it actually was. It seemed an obvious sign of civilization. That tiny desperate part of him longed to turn around, to find the first villager he saw and grovel like it was his birthright. That part of him, he decided, needed to be beat to the pulp with a switch. Even if he were to find a town, he wouldn’t be so crude to parade around in practically nothing, sickly and most likely covered in blood. That was a surefast way to get himself killed. That kind of arc was never going to be offered to him.

The imagery danced wickedly in his mind, himself tied to a post in the middle of terrified and enraged strangers, jeering at him before being set alight, _the flamesー!_ Paranoia swept over him so swiftly he stumbled over his own feet, and in seconds was sprinting through the forest like somehow by just imagining the village a pack of angry men had conjured from thin air and were now at his very heels. The harder the wind whipped around him, the more hair slapped his face like a horse whip, and before he knew it he plummeting right into someone, falling to the ground with a hard grunt. He’d blanked out for all of two seconds before stumbling backwards, still succumbed to his own torturous fantasy.

“For God’s sake, are you absolutely mad?” He winced as a hand landed roughly on his shoulder, another entangling itself in his hair, andー

Oh.

“Prince Kim.” he said.

“Sir Lee.” The prince returned blankly, though his eyes glimmered with obvious confusion. “Have you been touched by an angel overnight?”

Daehyun was too busy pulling himself back together to take offense, his brain more focused on the hand on his shoulder supplying most of his body heat, and the hand still buried between wet tendrils of hair.

Himchan, he realized, was waiting for an answer apparently, because his headache returned full force when the prince had cocked his hand back and almost ripped his hair out trying to avoid getting hit.

“I—I’m well! I’m well! And I beg of you to lower your hand!” Daehyun knelt there tensely for a moment, half expecting to feel the sting of a palm against his cheek long after the hand had returned to the prince’s side.

“I’m not sure how they do things in whatever province or village you come from, but so long as you are in Kim territory I behoove of you to not run around ass naked like your mind has truly left you.

Daehyun finally took the time to look down, realizing he’d dropped his clothes in the middle of his fit. His face down to his chest was quickly flushing red, feeling waves of shame as he asked the prince for clothes.

“Oh, for hell’s sakeー” Kim took him by the wrist, déjà vu hitting Jung hard on the head. “I have a pair of trousers, though I doubt you’ll be able to fit them. I’m surprised you didn’t blow away in the wind.” Jung had mustered up enough dignity to glare, but otherwise stayed quiet.

They walked in dead silence until they came upon Taesong, tied haphazardly to a tree. The horse looked towards them before shaking its head in a way Daehyun could only describe as disgruntlement.

“Here,” Himchan grumbled, stalking towards the horse and unbuckling one of the many bags on its side, pulling out a wrinkled black pair of trousers and and equally as wrinkled top with long sleeves. The silence quickly fell back into the air, filled only with sound of the earl’s horrible attempt at getting dressed. The top was easy enough, navy blue cotton hanging an inch or so off his hands. The britches, however, were a lost cause, slipping from his thighs and waist over and over before the prince had had enough, coming over to help. No words were exchanged as Jung stared at the prince and his impatient expression as he threaded the string of the pants through each loop. The occasional touch of hot skin made Daehyun stomach jump more than he cared to admit.

“I am a fucking prince.” Kim soliloquized. “No, I am  _ the  _ prince. I am Prince Himchan of Kim, and I am tying a peasant’s britches like some manservant. Oh Lord of Lords, why are you being so cruel to me?” Daehyun bit his tongue, hushing the insults that sat at his lips. “You should be thankful for this situation, you realize that? If anyone else was as brash as you they’d really be dead. You haven’t said a word, though. I’m sure this is better than any cloth you wore as a peasant, no?”

The prince finished his rant with a final tug on the ties, keeping the pants perfectly in place.

“You don't ask for thanks, Prince Kim. If it weren't for my morals I’d curse you right to your face for even insinuating that I should thank you. But you didn't have to lend someone like myself your clothes, and so I suppose I am grateful for that.” Try as he might, Daehyun couldn't keep the chagrin from his voice.  _ At least I made an effort. _

Himchan went back to fixing his saddlebag, mindlessly fumbling with the buckle. “You're welcome...I guess.” Taesong shook his head impatiently. “We should probably get going. I think I saw footprints up ahead. With any luck we might catch it sleeping and be able to put up a fight before our deaths.”

Himchan jumped easily onto the horse and seemed to be contemplating for a second before looking at Daehyun questioningly. Daehyun pursed his lips but didn’t complain.  _ Anything is better than walking. _

“I’m sure your incessant banter could wake it from across an ocean.”

 

* * *

 

Himchan shifted slightly, mind half on following the tracks and half on the boy behind him. For all the shivering and complaining, Lee Daehyun’s body felt like a fire to the prince. The peasant had seemed to nod off at some point, fingers digging gently into his waist. Without the constant taunting to fill the silence, it made it hard to drive away thoughts of the other man. As much as he hated to admit it, Lee Daehyun was one of the most beautiful men he’d seen in a while. A strong part of him had to resist the urge to turn around and stare at face, desperate to see his lips jutted out and pouting, a glimmer of teeth peeking through. If he just ran his thumb across the bottom lip, maybe a flash on tongue would appear, and…

And the tracks seemed to be going in circles, but pretending to be ignorant and following them gave him a focus to cling to.

In a separate reincarnation, maybe. Maybe there he’d be allowed to daydream until reality and fantasy blended. He could dance with all the boys he saw fit, and hold hands and kiss all over until kissing had no real meaning.

“If I didn't know any better, I’d have thought you were thinking out loud.”

The prince startled, finally broken out of his reverie. “What are you talking about?”

“You’d make a horrible knight. You were so lost in your thoughts you were laughing aloud at your own imagination.”

Prince Kim huffed indignantly, biting the inside of his cheek as if that would calm its redness. “Well I’m not a knight, so what does it matter? As if there’s anything to be focused on out here. The woods can’t be new and interesting forever. Nothing can.” Himchan could hear how childish his words sounded, but couldn’t be arsed to hold them back. It wasn’t like a guard or one of his father’s men would be there to send disapproving looks and then spill all of their findings like old ladies.

“Are you always this bitter and unfun to be around?”

“I do apologize I am not absolutely ecstatic to see my fate and know that it is truly inevitable.”

“So that is a yes?”

Fed up, the prince dug his heels into the side of the horse, basking for a moment in the sound of the other’s high-pitched yelp. He wasn’t particularly focused on where he was going, but as long as Lee wasn’t bickering down his ear he’d call it a win.

 

* * *

 

 

“If you keep going like this your recklessness will kill us before the beast ever finds us.” Daehyun’s warning fell flat in the steadily cooling air. Taesong sounded tired and overworked, and he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint where they were if someone put a sword to his neck. “Prince Kim, you’re being extremely childish right now. Can you even tell where we are right now? Or are you justー”

“Be quiet.”

“Excuse me? Did you just tell me toー”

“For hell's sake, be quiet!  _ Look _ .”

Daehyun balked, hands fisting into the other’s sides, but leaning to look over his shoulder nonetheless. Whatever complaint he was building up got stuck in his throat as his eyes focused in on the cottage in front of them. The door was smashed open brutally and the familiar scent of death hung heavy in the air. Daehyun gulped.

“Do youーDo you think it was.... _ It _ ?”

“I don’t think the biggest pack of wolves could cause this much damage.”

Carefully, Jung dismounted the horse, legs wobbling from lack of use and perhaps something else he wasn’t willing to acknowledge. Up close, the smell was almost too much to handle. He’d barely made it through the doorway before his stomach started to twist violently. Still, he forced himself to look around, warily eyeing the straw strewn across the floor.

“There’s nothing here.” he called without turning, unable to take his eyes off of the scene in front of him. It had to be him. There was no roaming animal that could ever break in a door and cause this much bloodshed. Whoever was here before, he killed them. Earl Daehyun of Jung, committer of populicide towards defenseless peasants. He wished someone was there to stand before him and somehow physically strip him of his name and title.

“Lee. Watch your step and go check the back for a garden. They’re might be food here. I’ll collect things for a fire.”

The earl wordlessly obliged, the image of resting in the house where he had once slaughtered a family revolting. He stared around him, only half-heartedly taking in his surroundings. There was a decently sized potato patch on one side, only slightly trampled. On the other side was a row of slightly wilting pink carnations that made Daehyun’s heart stop there in his chest. Faintly, he remembered being younger, getting softly lectured by a gardener.

Pink carnations, the biggest symbol of a mother’s love.

He’d killed a family. He’d killed a child, or maybe even children.

The ground beneath him seemed to instantly give out, and he fell to his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i took so long to post this and it's barely subpar omg...anyhow i hope you guys enjoy this because i'm having a blast writing all these dramatics lol
> 
> ー  
> i. switch - a stick usually used for whipping or disciplining  
> ii. behoove - it is appropriate or suitable; it befits(i was so desperate to use this word lol)  
> iii. populicide - the slaughter of a people; a massacre  
> 1\. "Domine Iesu, dimitte nobis debita nostra, salva nos ab igne inferiori, perduc in caelum omnes animas, praesertim eas, quae misericordiae tuae maxime indigent." - The Fatima Prayer  
> 2\. "Have you been touched by an angel..." - backhanded way of asking have you lost your mind  
> 3\. "...a row of...pink carnations that made Daehyun's heart stop..." - symbol of a mother's undying love, from the belief that they appeared on earth from the tears of Virgin Mary as she wept for Jesus at his crucifixion(bc me and my biblical references can never die)


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually proofread this one thoroughly this time! amazing  
> in any case, sorry if there are spelling/grammar errors  
> all refs/translations/definitions in the end notes as always  
> p.s. i was listening to the same two horribly sad songs on repeat so sorry in advance lol

_When you think of cursed people, you think of men who have committed felonies, treason, adultery. Rapists and pillagers who take mindlessly from the innocent. He’d never been one to believe in such things._ If you’re a good man _, he thought,_ you shouldn’t have to believe in those things.

_As it turns out, whether you believe in something or not doesn’t necessarily negate its realness._

_In fact, he'd seen more dishonorable men and sinners recreating heaven from their own dirty memory and live handsomely. He’d seen entire mud villages burn for days on end for no reason but existing in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was no such thing as being exempt from a curse._

_It was that idea that nobility and a heart of pride would save him that worsened the curse by the hour._

_Still, at times like these where the mind struggled to compartmentalize, those fateful words seemed to echo around him..._

 

* * *

 

_“Quantus tremor est futurus, quando Judex est venturus, cuncta stricte discussurus…”_

Daehyun’s head was pounding. The world around him flashed and flickered, and the air was thick with smoke.

_“Mors stupebit et natura, cum resurget creatura, judicanti responsura.”_

It was nighttime, that much had to be true. The world around him seemed dead. Everything was a disconcerting blend of pitch black and dark orange and reds He quickly shut them. His throat wasn’t absolutely burning, but he was sure if he were to swallow it would be hellish.

_“Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? Quemー”_

“Can you please stop with that already?”

“Glad to see your poor condition didn’t put a stop to your attitude. And maybe it’s because lower ranking people like yourself aren’t taught Latin, but I’ll have you know that this is a lovely song.”

Lee grunted, tapping the ground with his fingers nervously. The last thing he wanted to do is rush trying to sit up and end up with bloodied hands.

“The most intricate and holy hymn could not soothe me over.” _And certainly not one about death,_ he added on mentally.

There was something wrong about all of this, but his lack of senses made it impossible to focus. Frustrated, he rolled to his side, only to be stopped by a strong pair of hands on his waist.

“Stop being foolish. We're on the second level of the cottage and I'd hate to watch you die because of a tantrum.”

“You're one to talk.” Daehyun bit out, attempting to push the prince away to no avail.

“Your voice sounds god awful. At least have some water before you attempt to argue.”

Daehyun jumped at the press of cold metallic against his lips, but made no other move and greedily drank down the liquid. He wanted to moan as his throat became more and more moisturized. The dull ache was still lingering, but at least now he felt functional.

“There's so much death here.” he finally murmured, pushing the cup away from him. “Even like... _this,_ even injured and weak, I can feel it.”

“There's been death everywhere for weeks. Months, even. You only feel it now because you don't have anything to distract yourself from it.”

“You say that as if it's somehow worse than wallowing in your own self pity.”

“ _You_ say that as if pretending will make everyone magically come back to life.”

“I doubt you ever cared about any of those countless lives until you realized you were on that list.”

A thick silence fell over the room. Vulnerability clung to him like a second skin. Of all the times to start an argument, this was definitely the worst.

With an awkward cough, the prince spoke. “You may be right, but don't fool yourself and believe that I am completely wrong.”

It wasn’t about being right or wrong, though. It was about lying to the truth. If Himchan knew what Daehyun really was, how he truly got here, there would be no consoling. And what a horrible realization, to become aware of the fact that you’ve been harboring a demon, no matter if you’ve loved them or simply given them a coinーthat you were an unintentional accomplice and you could never take that back.

How much more pitiful, on the other side, to see the troubles that you are causing and simply turn away? The turmoil that would ache deep in the prince’s belly because somehow, someway, the beast of Jung craved interaction nearly as much as he craved blood and destruction.

And to think they both chided each other like parents to their children, because the first idea of mind is to project…

“What do I look like right now?” the earl pondered aloud.

The prince took the bait quite easily, tutting and shifting over Daehyun so that he could get a clear view of the waist up.

“A drunk man. Your eye sockets look like they’ve taken a beating and the left side of your face is covered in dry dirt from when you had your moment and fell out. I would’ve cleaned it but I figured you wouldn’t take to keenly to me scrubbing at your face like a worried servant. Your blouse is just as wrinkled as ever, and your face is as pale as a tanned face can get.”

Daehyun reached for the left side of his face, grimacing as a few flakes of dirt crumbled under his touch.

“You wouldn’t happen to still have a little reserve of water to wipe that off, would you?”

“You went around covered in manure for weeks perfectly fine, I don’t see why a couple of spots of mud is suddenly too much.”

“You’d probably die if you got a single fleck of puddle water on your cheek. What a boring life you must’ve led.” To his shock, when he reached to scratch the dirt off, the prince slapped his wrist like a teacher.

“Stop being so dramatic, _fatuus_.” he muttered. “I’ll do it just this one time.”

“Insulting me in Latin won’t get you any closer to Heaven, you know?”

I’ve kissed more men than there are books in the Bible. I doubt calling you out of your name is what sends me to the depths of Hell.”

“What’s it like? To kiss a man, I mean.”

There was silence from beside him, before the prince stood and made his way down the stairs, presumably to get a bucket and towel.

“The same as kissing a woman, I would have to guess. I’ve never been with a woman so I don’t have a reference to go by.”

“Are all men as proud and flaunting as you?”

Daehyun listened to the soft splashes of water being carefully carried up the steps as he awaited his response.

“Some are. Most aren’t. It’s hard to be so headstrong and full of yourself when you remember if you’re caught you are sure to be beheaded and publicly shamed for days on end. It’s so much easier on the mind to keep all your joys in separate different corners, lest you’re brave enough to live your life as an outcast.”

“It must be torture to constantly keep sexuality repressed.”

“Not everything is about sexuality, you do realize that right?”

 

* * *

 

 Himchan sat next to the boy, wringing out the towel as best as he could, despite its seemingly permanent dirty state. Part of him was nervous from all of the sudden questioning, while the other part was exhilarated and ready to tell all. It took all of his effort to filter what he was saying and not just spill everything he knew.

“Sex is not important at all. It’s just another game that people play. I want the romance and the dancing around the streets. I want to be open and free first, then we can worry about sex. Now really, hold still unless you want mud in your mouth. You can interrogate me about my fellow sodomites some other time.” Whether the boy’s cheeks were turning red from the scrubbing or embarrassment, Kim found it funny and smiled anyhow. “If it means anything to you, I think you’re quite handsome.”

“The last time I bathed properly there was still snow melting on the ground and the sky was all white. That I haven’t simply died of infection is a feat in itself. Please, don’t try to fool me.”

“If I wanted to fool you I’d say you were Adonis incarnate. You may be dirty and a beggar, but I’m sure when taken care of you’d be great.”

“I feel so complimented.” Lee muttered thinly.

The prince huffed, tossing the towel to ground. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

_What great luck I have._

He felt young again, attempting to be smooth and making an ass of himself. “I meant that even now in all your poor condition, much of your beauty still shines through. If you let go of your pride you’d have realized that.”

Lee’s face twisted. “Is it really so wrong to be prideful? Given the state I’m in, shouldn’t I have pride in something? Or do I not get to believe in anything?”

“That’s an excuse and you know it. I’ve been in better conditions than you ever will and have seen the most selfless men with no pride at all. Our current state didn’t bring onto us this mindset, we were born with it or created it ourselves.” The prince went to say more, but when he looked down Lee’s eyes were open and gazing unseeingly at the roof, pupils so tiny behind muddled brown. His eyelashes clung together and ever so slowly, a tear built and slid down his nose.

“I’m going to bed now.”

Himchan wanted to say something but quickly decided not to. He'd already messed up. Instead, he carefully closed the other’s eyes, feeling guilty when he flinched. So many words ran around his head, so many fruitless apologies that would fall deaf on even his own ears. In the end, he just kept softly brushing his thumb over Daehyun’s eyelids until both of their breaths evened out.

 

* * *

 

 By the time Himchan woke up, the sun had almost fully risen and Daehyun was sat in front of a freshly built fire, fingers gripped tightly around a cooked potato. His eyes were starting to burn from the heat, yet he made no effort to move away. No matter which way he looked at it, there was only one solution to the curse. It had spelled itself out to him, slipped around his heart like a noose and counted the seconds until the stool fell from beneath his feet. The curse was built on life, and crashed down with loss. _Si jeunesse savait_ , he thought. _Si jeunesse savait, si vieillesse pouvait_. He watched remorsefully as the prince looked around swiftly before his eyes finally fell on him.

“I see your vision has returned.” The earl nodded once. “And the potatoes look rather nice. I was scared they’d be too small or rotted out.” A blink, a glance down, and another nod. Himchan stood, dusting invisible dirt from his trousers. “I guess I should have one myself before we leave then?” It was meant to be a statement, but the nervous tinge in his voice curved the sentence at the end.

Daehyun watched him come down the steps for only a spare second before going back to staring at his meal. “We can’t leave here.” he said at last. “Staying here is bad, but leaving will surely be even worse. I didn’t hear the beast all night. That must be a good sign.”

“We still have to get food and wood and freshwater. As tempting as it sounds, we can’t stay here forever. No matter how accommodating, we can’t stay here for more than three days at most.”

Daehyun sighed, half-tempted to give in and go back to sleep. Despite the prince’s sour attitude and continuously harsh words, he was always truthful and straightforward. Whether it was natural or from years of teaching, he at least fit the role of a sensible king when needed be. The contrast was definitely something worthy of praise; between being a level-headed leader and a bratty and arrogant child. But there was something else about himーa third side almostーthat Daehyun saw a glimpse of the night before. A gentle, apologetic Himchan.

There was a side that didn’t mock his sudden tears, nor sternly tell him to stop. He think he might have leaped out of his body in pure shock, to feel soft fingers apologize in ways words couldn’t. The boy didn’t want to admit it, but there was something admirable in that. He longed to be like that again. Though Prince Kim had his faults(a plethora of them, really), they never interfered with his rationality. His respect was silent but deep.

“How long have you been sitting like this? Your back is surely aching by now.” The attempted segue was obvious, and though Daehyun wasn’t feeling quite up to par, he obliged anyway.

“I’ve been up since dawn. You’d be surprised how hard it is to rest when all you can do is smell rotted wood and feel shreds of hay poking your spine.”

“You should certainly rest, then. I’ll handle things this morning. You still look very unwell and I refuse to carry you again if you faint.” Himchan smoothly tied his sword belt, and then a flimsy looking cloak that most definitely belonged to the owner of the cottage. The prince looked at the door and then back at the boy by the fire, who watched him in confusion. He pursed his lips, reluctantly taking the dagger from behind his shoulders once again. “Take this. I don’t really think I’m in the mood to see a dead body right now.”

Daehyun looked between the prince and the dagger, and then nodded once, taking it gratefully. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need. Just don’t wander far and take it with you at all times. I’ll be back in soon enough time.”

Without a single glance back, Himchan took his leave, the loud shut of the door leaving a harsh silence in its wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this one is so short but in my defense if i'd written any longer it'd have left off on a cliffhanger like the last chapters and i want the twists to actually catch someone off guard :)
> 
> ー
> 
> i. sodomite ー a person engages in sodomy  
> ii. plethora ー a large or excessive amount of something  
> 1\. "Quantus tremor est futurus, quando Judex est venturus, cuncta stricte discussurus/Mors stupebit et natura, cum resurget, creatura, judicanti responsura/Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? Quem.." ー "Oh, what fear man's bosom rendeth,  
> when from heaven the Judge descendeth, on whose sentence all dependeth/Death is struck, and nature quaking, all creation is awaking, to its Judge an answer making./What shall I, frail man, be pleading? Who..."(From the hymn Dies Irae or 'Day of Wrath' in English)  
> 2\. "fatuus" ー idiot  
> 3\. "Si jeunesse savait, si vieillesse pouvait." ー "If youth knew, if old could." (I'd say popular French saying, but honestly I've only heard it thrice or so)


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> looking back the pacing is very weird in this but!!!! i hope you all enjoy :^)
> 
> apologies for any grammar/spelling errors  
> all references/translations in the end notes as always(i tried to cut down this time lol)

Touching. Even the most hidden men, dwelling beneath shadows and in caves, had to have craved affection. For a prince, intimacy and praise were the highest forms of validation. If you’re harsh on someone, they’ll be just as harsh on you. If you’re charming and relaxed, then they’ll act the same. If you want to get something, you have to fit the image.

He tried to split himself, be stern but sweet, make his presence as a higher rank known but still be humble. He may be a prince, but he had to carry himself like a king. To the people outside of the castle, he was not Prince Himchan, but soon-to-be King of Kim. He was not to be touched or talked to or messed with. He was a figure to be seen with eyes, not hands. For a while, the only thing he felt was the calloused fingers of a tutor helping him aim a bow and arrow, or how to parry a sword with one hand. The words ‘caress’, ‘deft’, and ‘soft’ had fallen out of his vocabulary, until a theatre had been built only a moment’s walk from the castle. Like a gift from God himself.

A masked theatre full of men, women, and perhaps something else.

Himchan tugged gently on Taesong’s rein, too tired to hold any malice towards anything at this point. The river ran nonchalantly in front of him, begging him to take a dip. His lips pursed as he glanced from the taunting water to the buckets he’d brought to fill up. There was no way he would be bringing back a decent amount of water without having to carry them back on foot. He braced himself for a harrying walk back.

 

* * *

 

  
  
Boys had the sweetest lips. That's what he took away from a year of sneaking into a theatre. They were like freshly baked goods, bronzed gold outsides followed by buttery smiles and words to chew on and savor in your mind.

Of course it was only acting, only fake words and stories told too many times, but each time there was something different to add. What started as a tale of the Trojan War quickly became a weekly improvised skit between Achilles and Patroclus.

Sometimes they were morose, dramatic irony that told each other's fates. Other times they were outright ridiculous, actors scantily clad and dancing around each other like two trapped fish.

Jongup hated those days, where the pantomime would end with the crowd guffawing over crudely mimicked sex. “It's too silly,” he said. “They make love look like a children's game.”

Himchan always rolled his eyes at this. Jongup was quite possibly one of the most high-spirited and childish men he knew. It seemed to be a commonplace for royalty, to have two personalities split down the middle. If only to prove how enigmatic his statement was, the conversation would always be ended with many kisses. It's like the difference between knowing something and acknowledging it.

For all the confusing things he said, Jongup perhaps knew more than he let on.

(And besides, who would ever turn down such soft lips?)

 

* * *

 

  
  
Himchan huffed, wiping the sweat off his brow with poorly concealed annoyance. He'd seen maids carry buckets of boiling hot water it was nothing, yet his fingers were a troubling shade of red and bordering on numb.

Still, he was careful to pour the buckets of water into the wooden tub despite his burning skin. _He better kiss the ground I walk on for this._

With what little strength in his fingers he had left, Kim untied the sack on his side, double checking its contents. _Mint, rose petals, blueberries, and raspberries._ He dumped the petals and leaves into the water, watching them swirl around the water in slow little circles. He sighed, stress dragging down his shoulders before he pulled himself back up straight. “Lee Daehyun!”

There was a loud thump and a few moments of silence before he got his response. “Are you bleeding or dying?”

“What? Noー”

“Then for my sake, never do that again.” Slowly but surely, Lee made his way outside, eyeing the scene in front of him warily. “What is all of this…?”

Himchan wrung his hands, a hint of nervousness seeping through. “It’s a bath, obviously.” he grunted. “It has mint and rose...and I have berries if you’re hungry…” He grabbed the other by the wrist, shoving the bag in his hand before moving to untie his trousers.

“W-What?”

“Are you losing your hearing now too, Sir Lee? I’m not sure where that damned beast is and I doubt we'll ever keep track of it. Why not humor ourselves with fresh water and fruits? Now take off that blouse and hop in before the water cools.”

Lee blinked owlishly at the prince, as if he had grown two heads. “Are you trying to apologize to me or something?”

Himchan blushed, stalking back into the cottage. “Just take your damn bath.”

 

* * *

 

  
  
Daehyun tugged at his trousers nervously, feeling slightly overwhelmed. His half-asleep mind was still processing the fact that he'd made the prince _blush_. If he listened carefully, he could hear him stomping and slamming things around the room.

He dared himself a look down in the tub, a slight smirk building on his lips. _You're supposed to smash the leaves, you ass._ He paused for a second as he caught a glimpse of his reflection, eyes and cheeks swollen with sleep. The mint could at least help with that.

By the time he actually convinced himself to relax into the water, the water had just reached the perfect state of being not too hot or cold, loosening his tense muscles within seconds. He couldn't help but groan eagerly, tempted to just dunk himself underwater and stay there until his skin was wrinkled and he'd grown scales.

“I didn't mean what I said, you know.” Jung poked an eye open, catching the prince stealing a blueberry from the pouch. “Last night, I meant. I just wanted you to take my compliment.”

“You can't force anyone to take your compliments, and calling them ‘in poor condition’ definitely doesn't help your point.”

“I think I can see that now.” A comfortable silence fell over them. When Himchan went to take another berry, Daehyun grabbed his hand gently.

“You know this was all unnecessary?”

“I’m aware. I think. I’m not sure yet, I could be out of my mind.”

Daehyun let go, picking one of the berries for himself. “What is that supposed to mean exactly?”

“It means you should really stop talking and enjoy yourself before I truly do something idiotic.” The prince twirled his index finger in the water boredly, resting his head on his chin. “Every hour I spend with you I get more and more impulsive.”

The earl felt his ears start to burn. There was obviously an implication there, but towards what he didn't know.

“You're very strange for a prince.”

“Prince is my title, not my entire personality.”

“What is your personality then?”

“Isn't it backwards for me to tell other people how I think I’m perceived?”

Daehyun rolled his eyes at the quick loop around the question. “I think you're more of a fool than I am. You're just better at masking it.”

The prince burst into laughter, splashing water in his face. “It takes a fool to recognize one!”

There was a pause, a man weight that attempted to build in the air where Daehyun was unsure what to do, before it crashed down with his hearty laugh.

“So you admit that you're a fool, then?”

 

* * *

 

  
  
Himchan felt out of breath. Like he was taking in his first gulp of air after being underwater for weeks. Daehyun, with his loud laughs and giant grin that stretched across his face so genuinely—that was the life filling his lungs, and it was big and overwhelmingly refreshing. As instinctively as breathing, he couldn't help but to reach out his hand, thumb resting on his cheek.

Part of him cried to lean forward, if only for a second, while the other reminded him that that had never worked in the past. Instead he quickly played it off, turning the caress into a few short pats on the neck. It was Lee who grasped his wrist as he tried to pull away.

“I’m not fully sure what you're doing, but if it's what I think, this is me telling you to stop fooling around and just do it.”

“The one time I wait for your go ahead and you berate me about it.”

Himchan leaned in easily. _Maybe this is an illusion,_ he thought. _I’ll snap out of it and I’ll be lost somewhere in the forest with Taesong ambling along._ But Lee was staring back at him with a determined look written across his face. Even if he wanted to, it’d be shameful to back out at this point.

And besides, who could resist such soft lips?

His lips were just as he expected; warm and plush and slightly damp from the steadily rising steam. If he paid close attention, he could feel the soft tickle of Daehyun’s breath. He pulled back for just a second in an attempt to gauge the other’s reaction, only to be pulled back in by a gentle but firm hand.

The prince felt disconnected from his body. All of his body and energy felt focused on the hand that cradled his neck, the lips that moved slowly against his, and the tousled hair underneath his fingertips. Here he was, just outside of Death’s vision, becoming reborn, _reinvented_ , over the simple feeling of warm skin against his own. This, he thought, is what he lived for. This is what he spent his years searching for, turning every stone and peering behind every corner and passageway.

Even if for just these few days. Even if for just these few minutes. Even if only in the overstimulated sensors of his mind.

Even then, if only for a blink, he had found what he’d been looking for.

When they finally broke apart, Himchan’s eyes zeroed in on the sight of the Daehyun’s lips, parted just so slightly and matching the flushed tone of his cheeks and ears. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if he looked the same.

“You’re only this quiet when you’re confused or in a daze.”

“I thinkー” Daehyun paused, swallowing around the invisible lump in his throat. “I think that when you said you could be out of your mind, you were speaking for the both of us. They say that deaths should be happy, that funerals are a celebration of life, right? To everyone else, we are already dead. Perhaps we are neither dead or alive. From now until our nearing ends, I say we live as both.”

Himchan listened to the small speech with an unabashed amount of awe. Even Daehyun, the peasant who was supposedly beneath and inferior to him, had a different side to him that was domineering and self-assured.

Maybe this was something he was supposed to have learned by now, that everyone had different sides to them, more than one trait that defined them as a whole.

He wondered if Daehyun had come to this conclusion before. What if it were he who’d been temporarily blinded, ridiculed and in tears. Would he have been treated any differently? Was there really any difference between the two of them besides status and sentence?

The prince’s mind whirled at a dizzying pace, mouth not sure what thought to voice first. In the end he settled for simply reconnecting their lips, the one thing that he knew for certain would be reciprocated.

 

* * *

 

 

_Daehyun decidedly liked male lips, or Himchan’s in the very least. They're slightly rough and so sure of their movements, not even vaguely hesitant. The confidence spreads through him like a plague. He'd never wanted a sickness more._

_The vigor that spread through him sent chills down his spine. How horribly odd that the time he felt most alive was now. There was probably something to be said about that, long books of prose and philosophical talks gathering by the second. This was the human condition at its finest, but for now all he could manage was heated skin and shaking fingers._

_The pull away was much less awkward than he expected._

  


The worst thing about good things is watching them fall apart. Daehyun's good thing never got past its foundations before it tore itself apart.

That dreadful burn in the back of his throat felt twice as strong, his lips drying out and sweat trickling down the nape of his neck.

Across the room Himchan was asleep by the fire, the glow highlighting his sharp features. The lack of anything to do made it impossible to come up with a distraction. It became obvious rather quickly that no matter what revelations he came across, he was still the Beast of Jung.

If he wanted to, he could be so selfish. He could stay and pretend everything was fine for this one last night, transform and ruin everything but break the curse at once. He didn't know what excuse he'd used, but he could make one up over the weeks it's take him to get home, and then what? To find someone else in his place? To find his his home refurbished for someone else? To find a headstone with his name and an empty grave?

And on the other hand he could vanish for the night and have the prince misconstrue everything, only to return the next day and be back on where they were before as if nothing happened. He wasn't sure if there was a place to hide, or if there were people nearby. The variables were endless but none of them were appealing.

As quietly as he could, he tiptoed across the room and stooped down over the prince. Somehow the air felt so final; the smoke felt as if it were constricting his breathing. Deep down inside of him, there was a feeling that this was the end of something, something that had never begun but was already reaching its curtain call. Before he could change his mind, he pressed a quick kiss to Himchan’s forehead and sat his dagger down beside him, whispering a soft “forgive me” before standing again.

As carefully as he could, he pulled the thinnest stick he could from the fire, stubbing out the fire until there was a charred point at the end. As best as he could, he wrote a short message before heading out the door.

_**vivimur, mea kim, atque amavisse** _

Outside, the sunset made the sky a hellish red. The shadows of the forest stretched long and ominous. As if decidedly aware and already in mourning, there was barely a single murmur to be heard. The forest was solemn and waiting and expecting, and Daehyun could barely lift his head as he trudged to Taesong, gently shaking him awake before mounting him and burying his face into the horse’s neck. He gripped onto the reins as hard as he could, knowing his vision would start to fail him at any moment.

Without much more than a couple of low huffs, Taesong took off from the cottage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i. pantomime ー a dramatic entertainment in which performers express meaning through gestures accompanied by music  
> 1\. Achilles and Patroclus ー It was never stated but never denied that Achilles and Patroclus were more than just best friends, the story itself isn't really too important in regards to the fic but yea  
> 2\. "Vivimur, mea Kim, atque amavisse.." ー "We lived, my Kim, and have loved,"; a reference to Catullus's Song 5(Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus/Let us live, my Lesbia, and love,) because angst


	5. 5

_Daehyun just wished for it all to end. From the very beginning, perhaps even before he was ever succumbed to his current fate, he never wanted any of this. Maybe it was wrong to complain when he’d practically been born into a life of assured wealth, but self reflection meant so very little to him at this point._

_There was an assumption that wealth brought you everything. When Daehyun felt, watched for the first time in full unadulterated horror as his body grew into a towering beast that snarled and drooled and ran on all fours no matter what he willed, he realized how very wrong that statement was. No amount of money, no feast or bath or years worth of the softest touches could wipe the memories of blood from his mind. He would always remember the heavy iron and salt flavor, forever feel warm skin become cold beneath him. The distorted screams that were his own doing, those would stick with him long after death._

_To shrink into his own mortal body at the first light of dawn, to be a person with morals, a body that thought rationallyーhe felt as if he’d woken up from a repeating and steadily more vivid nightmare._

 

* * *

 

 

Himchan woke to a sharp pain. It started as a small pinch and slowly spread up his ribs until it seared in his chest. He gasped through the pain, every breath sending black spots across his vision. From across the room he could hear, almost _feel,_ a loudly heavy breathing, interrupted every couple breaths with a whine or a choked off growl.

 _So this is it,_ he thought. _This is the infamous Beast of Jung_. Somehow he felt ready, if not completely impatient. Maybe it was ignorant to expect death to be quick and easy, but he had a feeling that most people did not have to suffer a death this painful. It was exhausting, and the simple act of opening his eyes took many tries before he finally could look at the hulking beast in front of him. He wish he had it in him to scowl, to throw insults and heckle the beast into killing him off. Instead, he just stared.

Its face was hidden under a mop of tangled and muddy hair, knotted with who knows what. Its skin was a discomforting shade of gray as if there were no sign of life anywhere in him. Himchan tried turning his head to get a better view, only to immediately jostle what ever was rammed in his side. A wheezed cry involuntarily left his lips causing the beast to startle.

Damn it all.

Two blood red eyes bored into his figure so menacingly he felt his heart almost pick back up to normal pace. Conflict built heavy in his mind, instinct telling him to shrink in while every bone and muscle in his body refused to cooperate. Himchan was literally paralyzed with fear.

“S-Stop…” he managed to slur, for lack of anything better he could think to say. _As if he could negotiate his life with a mindless killer._

He watched anxiously as the beast stood, eyes never leaving his and muscles contracting and expanding in a way the prince could only compare to a predator circling its prey. The heavy thud of feet thumping was terrifying in a way he’d never experienced before. If the beast didn’t kill him soon, anxiety alone would do the trick. He wasn’t even sure what he had been pleading for at this point: his life, or a death less painful than this.

Still, nothing could stop him from flinching as a hand twice the size of his head reached for the _whatever_ that was jammed in his side, a white hot pain wracking his entire body. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the beast sounded worried. Perhaps that was just his subconscious attempting to ease his pain. On some other level of consciousness he could hear his own panicked mumbles, feel his hands reaching in petty attempts to stop the hands from pulling the object out. Again, the beast made sound he could only comprehend as sorrowful, before pulling the item out in one quick motion.

This time, Kim was fully aware of the howl that burned his lungs and echoed throughout the entire cottage, as well as every around him. Too hot tears leaked angrily down his cheeks and seemed to burn his skin, blood soaked through his blouse and made it cling to his sides, the shimmer of the offending object grasped tightly in the beast’s giant hand. The dulled emerald shone in a way he swore it hadn't since he’d first got it all those years ago. The last time it'd been covered in his own blood was when he nicked his finger carving wood.

Now it just existed lifelessly, dying with him.

The beast dropped the dagger like it was killing him, a low howl echoing through the room like wind between trees.

 

* * *

 

 

Daehyun swore he could feel it. There was blood rushing through his body causing nothing but turmoil, the pressure dizzying him. He felt his bones shift back into place and releasing so much pressure he couldn't help but collapse. He could feel the prince’s eyes on him, and nothing but cowardice coursed through him as he kept his eyes down. The prince—Himchan, he probably couldn't talk, couldn't curse him to a thousand eternities in hell even if he wanted to, but he just _couldn't look_. He didn’t deserve to look, to see all his life’s wrongdoings poured into one body and bled out onto the floor, glistening like a shattered halo. He crawled with his hair touching the ground, desperately searching for anything to stop the bleeding, the truth of life that spread too fast for his liking.

“Stop…”

Daehyun stared at his hands, arms trembling apropos of everything and nothing at all. Fatigue wiped over him heavily, as if carrying from Himchan to himself.

“It's useless...s-stopー”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” Daehyun spoke, voice echoing throughout a room that had already settled.

“Jung. Dae. Hyun.”

Daehyun’s breath stuttered in his chest, body twisting painfully around and making eye contact with the prince in front of him. Blood stained his lips, staining his face and mixing with the sweat that beaded at his forehead. His exhales were audible, each followed by nerve-wracking silence before he worked up the strength to inhale again. The blood...the blood was _everywhere_. There really was no chance of stopping it.

“This is my fault. This is all my damned fault.”

“It is.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know.”

“I...I can’t save you. You’re bleeding out and I can’t save you.”

Himchan blinked slowly at him, taking a moment to gather his breath. “When I left the palace weeks ago. That’s when I died.”

“Don’t say that.”

“When I refused repentance, that’s when I died.”

“Himchanー”

“If you’re born, you’re going to die, you know. I just didn’t know how.” His hand twitched in what Daehyun supposed was a gesture to himself. “Didn’t know it’d be this.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this!”

“You’re being foolish.” Himchan whispered, barely audible with the little air he had in his lungs. He leaned his head back fully, letting his eyes slip close. “Absolutely foolish.”

Daehyun rushed to his side, dread sitting in his stomach like lead. “Please, _please_ don’t die yet.”

He grasped the other’s hand in his own, his stomach turning at the feeling of the overheated skin. “ _Agnus Dei, quitollis peccata mundi: miserere nobis. Agnus Dei, quitollis peccata mundi: miserere nobis. Agnus Deiー_ ”

“Why are you praying...you ass…”

Daehyun choked, a broken laugh escaping his lips.

“You’re absolutely horrible, Prince Kim.” The prince smiled softly, squeezing the hand in his.

“So are you. Doesn’t matter."

A silence came over them, more resigned than either of them expected. Time was running out but there wasn’t anything left to say. Time wasn’t moving any slower or faster than it ever did.

“You have a second chance. Don’t be stupid.” Himchan squeezed his hand again, so light it was more of a twitch than anything, but it said more than anything else.

Daehyun wanted to respond, say _something_ , but all he could manage was running his hand across the prince’s forehead, pushing his sweaty hair from his face. He watched quietly as the body under him slowly stopped shaking, the hand in his going limp before slipping out with a soft thump. He stared on longer, willing the world to stop for just a few more seconds, give him the smallest amount of solace to cling to. When he realized it wasn’t coming, he finally stood.

 

* * *

 

 

Daehyun didn’t know where he was. There was a lake stretched out in front of him, and just peaking at the horizon was a string of lights. His arms ached, but he managed to sit the body down as lightly as he could. He grown so unused to the dark that his eyes practically refused to adjust, the world around him one giant inky shadow. He felt no shame in holding onto Himchan’s wrist through his blouse.

This was it. He didn’t know where he was or what the people there were like, but he could only pray that it was better than where he’d been. This was his second chance.

Slowly, he caught control of his breath and began digging.

 

* * *

 

 

Daehyun awoke to a sword at his neck and the worst sense of deja vu. He peered up at the person behind the blade and ran through all the earls, knights, and generals he could think of, his mind coming up blank.

“Who are you?” a voice yelled, all fake authority and practiced lines.

“Sir Daehyun, Earl of Jung, I’d suppose.” The joke slipped easily over the man’s head, yet he lowered his sword ever so slightly.

“You didn’t bring the beast along with you, no?”

Daehyun glanced down at his ragged state and then at the mound of dirt under him, slightly raised from all the other ground. “With all that I’ve been through, I’d sure hope not.”

There was a small silence before the man finally extended his hand.

"I'm prince Youngjae Yoo. Of Yoo, I mean. I should probably report you for trespassing but something tells me you'd have killed me already if you wanted." Youngjae sat down nonchalantly next to Daehyun, rambling on as if he completely unaware of the world around him. Maybe it was just Daehyun that was hyperaware. "You're lucky no one ever comes around this side of the lake or you'd be dead by now. The guards have been very strict ever since Prince Kim went missing; I'm not sure they'd give you a second chance."

Daehyun balked, his entire body rejecting Youngjae's word choice.

Maybe this really was his second chance. At what he wasn't sure, and his readiness was yet to be determined, but Himchan's last words, however crude, echoed in his mind. Somehow everything had gone so horribly and he had still made it out alive at the end. Time never stopped and the world never ceased to exist. Humanity was yelling at him, pushing him in front of a lifetime and telling him to take it.

He quickly got a hold of himself, keen on not missing a beat of the conversation now. This was his second chance, and he refused to miss it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry if u hate this lol but !! i cannot believe i reached the end of this fic it's absolutely crazy idk what i'm gonna do now that it's finished i've honestly been thinking about it in all of my free time
> 
> there are a lot of parts to this that are left unanswered but i feel like writing it out now would be over-explaining, so maybe if i get the urge to turn this into a series you'll know
> 
> as always, apologies for any spelling and grammar mistakes
> 
> please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed~

**Author's Note:**

> i. The title itself comes from a popular quote in the poem/story Beowulf, "That was their way, their heathenish hope; deep in their hearts they remembered hell."  
> ii. dulcimer - an old fashioned string instrument; just think 14th century guitar  
> 1\. "Pater noster, qui es en cælis," - "Our Father, who is in Heaven,"  
> 2\. "He's like a cabbage...all head and no ass." - I guess this is somewhat self explanatory, but it basically means someone who is all talk and has nothing to back it up.  
> 3\. "Oremus: Deus, cujus Unigénitus, per vitam, mortem et resurrectiónem.." - "Let us pray. O God, Whose Only-Begotten Son, by His life, death and resurrection.."(the beginning of the final prayer of the rosary)  
> 4\. "Erratum humanum est! Hic non est." - "Error is human! This is not."  
> 5\. veuve - widow  
> 6\. "et je ne suis pas née pour devenir squelette!" - "..and I was not born to be a skeleton!"  
> 7\. "Love must be reinvented, on le sait." - Quote taken from Arthur Rimbaud's 'The Foolish Virgin' (5, 6 and this part is all in reference to it. I know it was written in the 1800s but let's just pretend for the fun of it all)  
> 8\. "You, me, and the devil makes three." - from the song 'Didn't Leave Nobody But the Baby.' I just took the metaphor and made it literal


End file.
